


Nāzanin

by Therabis



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Drabble Collection, Exploration, F/M, Feyre x Rhys, Fluff and Smut, Mates, Shameless Smut, feysand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10424907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therabis/pseuds/Therabis
Summary: A series of drabbles that I wanted to collect in one area. Most are just random head canons that I envision: some taking place during canon plot, others are slight AU situations. <3





	1. Training

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a Farsi word meaning sweet or dear. The way SJM has depicted the night court strongly reminds me of Persian culture, so I thought it was appropriate (at least for my own inspiration for the content).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre POV. A "pre-mating" setting makes this more fun. Let's put it right before the Inn scene in ACOMAF

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

I circle him, careful of my movements so I can try and match his stances. A step forward, a careful bend to the knee, centering my gravity at the base of my spine. Arms relaxed. Waiting. Deadly.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

His violet eyes glitter as we begin anew. A sharp jab and a flurry of movement as we dance and fight and I smirk as he can’t keep the pride from his face while I show him how much I’ve been practicing. A wave of my water magic streams past that he narrowly dodges. I circle again, but not fast enough to evade his counterattack of shadows. They latch onto me, slowing me down, and he grabs me from behind.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

I turn to deliver a hidden ice spear angled at his throat. A would-be-fatal blow in a real fight, making me the winner of this round. He holds me in a vice grip, refusing to let go. We’re so close. Warm breath against my ear as he shifts his stance to balance against me. Hands lingering at my waist..

_Breathe in. Breathe—_

His deep, husky voice in the afternoon air stirs me to the core. “Ice beats shadow. I owe you dinner.” He trails a hand up to my chest, feeling my pounding heart beneath. He still hasn't let go.

_Breathe—_

Fingertips move to ghost over my clothed waist, and down my thigh and I can feel myself tremble. From the fatigue of my muscles or something more, I can’t tell. He moves my thighs a bit and I can feel my spine aligning. “Keep your knees further apart. It will give you a firmer stance.”

_Breathe—_

I try to stay focused. The new balance I have seems to affect the flow of my magic as well - like a current has become unblocked. I call my water from where it splashed in the distance and it circles over our heads in a graceful arc. A quick squeeze to my shoulder and he murmurs gently into my neck. “That’s it.”

_Breathe—_

“You’re doing well. You’ll have me sore all over tonight.” I didn't miss the double-meaning in his words as he walked back to his starting position - a knowing smile gracing his perfect face. He shifts back into his fighting stance, facing me once more. The ghost of his warmth and trailing fingers leaves me aching. My body's hunger for nourishment from our rigorous fighting changes into something deeper. Heavier.

_—out._

 


	2. Porcelain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys POV. Domestic scene set after the war with Hybern.

I hear a crash and a string of colorful profanities from the kitchen. I can’t keep the smile off my face as I winnow in, silent as shadow, to investigate.

The kitchen is coated rather spectacularly in a dust cloud of white. Everything from the pans that are scattered on the floor, to the walls, to the beautiful woman kneeling and trying to scoop up the bag of flour that had ripped open. 

She pauses in her movements to sneeze. The movement sends up another cloud of white and she curses.

I’m torn between laughing and keeping quiet. I decide on the latter as I walk in carefully and sneak up behind her. She yelps in distress when I pat her hard on the back; beating a cloud of lingering flour off her clothes.

She turns to face me with a glare, and I see how the powder is dusted all over her face. I have to struggle not to gasp.

The flour has tinted her recent sun-kissed skin an ethereal white, and coated her lashes. For a moment, the figure in front of me is like an angel. Glowing and white. Her blue-grey eyes shimmering like ancient ice. A light to my soul of shadow - as her magic never fails to remind me when we make love - but this…

My chest feels oddly tight as I finally realize why the image unsettles me. Despite her beauty, Feyre is uniform in color. Perfect, cold, and dead. Like a porcelain doll.

I take a deep breath and softly blow into her face, revealing her familiar and exquisite features beneath the white mask. My pounding heart calms immediately and I can't help the grin now at her flabbergasted expression.

She is still mumbling curses when she looks away with a blush and starts to dust herself off further.

“Had a little accident, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”


	3. Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre POV.

“Allow me to indulge in something?” I asked him carefully, getting up from the sofa and making sure my shields were well enforced. I had need of Morrigan and her advise relating to a certain missed monthly cycle. My heart simultaneously pounded and warmed with a burning heat every time I thought of it.

He stared at me longer than I thought necessary. “Feel free to indulge in anything you want around me, darling.”

It was impossible to miss the leer in those words. Or maybe I had just been spending too much time around him.

He cocked his head waiting for me to reveal my intent and I shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s personal, and you’re not a female.”

He got up at that and came to stand beside me, grinning. “I am 500 years old, love. And then some. There is not a shred of female behavior, or anatomy, that I am not acutely aware of.”

I heard Mor snort in the dining hall.

He prowled closer, but my retort was faster, “So what you’re saying is…you’re just some pervy, old man. Ancient really. How do you know female biology hasn’t evolved in the eons that you’ve stalked the Earth?”

The corner’s of his lips twitched, and we didn’t break each other’s stare. I heard Morrigan choke on her wine. A chair scraped, and she was laughing as she winnowed out, shouting, “I’m telling Cassian!”

Rhysand smiled in earnest and walked closer. I yielded to him and backed against the moonstone pillar until he was so close that I could feel his breath. _Old Bat._ I quipped mentally. The scent of him was intoxicating. Musky jasmine mixed with that citrus and sea-breeze.

“That I am, darling.”

His kiss sent all further rebuttals scattering as our bodies intertwined on the pillar. Thoughts of missed cycles completely erased - for the time being.


	4. Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s heat and then there’s "heat".  
> NSFW. AU scene set during Rhys’ trip to the summer court with Feyre in ACOMAF. This Feyre doesn’t feel the guilt of betraying Tamlin nearly as much. She is much more at ease with teasing poor Rhys.

(Rhys POV)

It was a scorchingly hot day outside. Like every day in Summer.

The private bedroom that Tarquin was letting me stay in had a balcony with a wonderful view of the ocean. I sat outside on a chair letting the sweet ocean breeze kiss my skin, unable to bring myself to move. I was supposed to be laying traps and gathering intel on the guards’ movements, but it was simply too hot. I could catch up on my espionage when the sun went down, but until then I was loathe to move even a single muscle.

Feyre was currently on an outing with Tarquin anyway, somewhere in the village fishing district, and I couldn’t keep my treacherous thoughts from what the two of them were doing. Amren was having fun distracting Varian, so I was all alone until either one of them came back.

I groaned then as the wind lapsed and the heat from the sun started a merciless bake.

I had already stripped off my jacket and shirt and was now contemplating whether the benefits of taking off my pants as well were really worth the effort - I came to no satisfying conclusion.

I forced myself to empty all thoughts and stress from my head though - trying to relax from the impending conflict our mission guaranteed; Feyre and Tarquin, the Book, Hybern, the Queens, all of it. Instead, I focused on the sound the gulls overhead made and the gentle crashing of the ocean waves.

I perked up though when I heard the rustling of the door handle from back inside my room. I sat up with surprise as Feyre entered, a giddy expression on her face. _She’s back early._ I thought, as she closed the door and padded over to me, oddly keeping both hands behind her back.

“I think I may have finally figured out where they’re hiding the book!” She exclaimed proudly, but then she eyed me up and down, taking note of my bare chest, and I gave her a lazy grin as she chided, “And here i’m feeling guilty for enjoying the sights and smells of the Summer Court. Been busy have we?”

I pouted at her and crossed my arms over my chest, but because the sun was directly in front of us, I had to squint past the bright rays of sunlight. All I saw was a vague silhouette and the occasional glimpse of her gorgeous, rather put-out face. Feyre pulled up a chair right up against mine and sat down. We were practically shoulder to shoulder and I had to struggle not to inhale like a starved man as her sweet scent hit me hard - the sweat on her skin was making an amplified aroma that made my mouth water.

“I’m a creature of Night, darling. I’ll make sure to catch up on my side of the dirty work when i’m not being roasted alive.”

Feyre snorted, “Then it’s exceedingly fortunate that I’ve brought something along to help you cool down, hmm?”

I had leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to ignore her tantalizing scent, but immediately recognized the characteristic ‘snap’, and when a red popsicle was dangled in front of my nose, I wasn’t able to keep the childish grin spreading over my face.

“You,” I grabbed the ice and promptly stuffed it into my mouth, “Are fe beft, mos wonerfu, da’lin eva!”

I knew Mor would promptly die on the spot at my lack of manners, but Feyre simply laughed, a thrill going through me at the sound. She sighed blissfully as she leaned back into her chair and began to suck on hers.

I didn’t realize how parched I was and concentrated on the wonderful coolness. Both of us content with silence for the moment. It was a sea-salt flavor, a delicacy of the Summer Court.

I was about to bite mine clean off to finish it when I stopped as I heard Feyre moan in delight. Her stick had begun to melt already and she was busy licking the juice around the rim. I gulped hard, thoughts derailing and crashing into the ocean far below.

I watched her swallow it whole, before slowly pulling it out of her mouth. The twirl of her tongue around the tip had to be on purpose - the scene was too perfect otherwise. I felt all of the heat from my body jump straight to my cock, which began to torturously throb.

A light flush settled on my cheeks as I watched her. She was smiling with wet, red-tinged lips in a too suggestive way for her not to know exactly what she looked like, and my heart pounded in my chest like a hammer. She kept making those little _sounds_ , and I couldn’t quite help the way my eyes kept zoning in on the sight of the glistening ice vanishing between dark red lips.

The stress of our mission had already left me feeling a little…high-strung. Tense. And the fact that I was having to sit through hours of Tarquin dancing a thin line with Feyre was maddening. Almost as maddening as watching the little minx moaning throatily and looking like she was sucking on a…Well, it had definitely chased away the stress of our mission, that’s for sure.

“Rhys?”

Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I froze like a deer caught in headlights. She was looking at me with a perfectly innocent expression. _Too innocent, you little tease._ Her blue eyes were dazzling in the sunlight and her popsicle lay softly against her lips. I felt my blush get worse.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t eating yours.”

My own popsicle lay forgotten in my hand as I struggled with words. In one smooth motion, she leaned over her chair and lifted my hand up. “See, it’s already dripping.”

I tried to swallow and couldn’t. I took a shaky breathe, trying my best not to think about the hardness at my groin - and desperately hoping this wasn’t some cruel, twisted dream. Slowly she lifted my hand and somewhere far, far away I noted that, yes - I had some of the sweet stuff running all down my fingers. Still, it seemed my brain functions weren't quite up to par right now, because by the time I understood that, Feyre had already gripped my hand and - _Cauldron boil me alive_ \- she began to lick up a red trail, her tongue cold against my hot skin.

My breath hitched and I tried swallowing again, hard. The heat from my cheeks dropped down to join the pulsing below my pants. I felt my cock jump as she twirled her tongue around my fingers.

I breathed a little too loudly then as she began to bob her mouth, cheeks hollowing.

She looked up from what she was doing, meeting my eyes evenly as if she wasn’t doing anything unusual at all, and then licked the trail up my middle finger, sucking a little at the tip to get rid of the mess. I stared at her with an intensity that I was sure she could feel in her bones - yet her mental shields were iron and I couldn't get a single sense of her thoughts. A soft roaring was slowly building in my ears - drowning out all else but the obscene sounds coming from her lips.

I was going to take her now. Right now on the bannister. Hard and fucking luxurious - her knowledge of the Mating bond be damned.

I was a split second from acting on these thoughts, my muscles tight like a spring cord, when Feyre smiled knowingly and leaned back, releasing my hand and licking her lips. “Seems I have to go. I’ll catch you at dinner?”

I blinked slowly at her, my thoughts still a raging mass of male horniness. I tried to stay put as she got up, desperately holding on to the little self control I had left so as not to pin her to the railing and…

“See you tonight.” She glided her fingers across my bare chest as she walked away, hot fire in their wake, and then she was gone. I made sure to wait for the noise of the door opening and closing before finally releasing my breath in a throaty gasp.

I stared out blankly at the fallen popsicle stick (hers) that lay on the ground. Quite determined not to acknowledge the way my pants still felt much too tight. My thoughts were racing now - all jumbled together and it was making me dizzy with want. Our easy banter and teasing had definitely taken a turn recently. We were so, _so_ close to crossing the line that I desperately wanted, but knew I couldn’t force on her. She had never done anything as bold as this though. Did that mean she was finally ready to take that plunge with me? Or was I over thinking it and she was just being a playful tease…

It was impossible for her not to have known what she was doing to me—not that she had done anything. Because nothing had happened. And Feyre hadn’t done anything. We would go to dinner like normal and I would make easy conversation with Tarquin and Cresseida and not focus on the way Feyre’s tongue had felt around me, cold and wet, and wondering what it would feel like on my…

I cursed. While I was at it, I could also pretend we never left for the Summer Court at all.

I heaved a great sigh in defeat as I laid my head back again and let the scorching sun have it’s way with me.

“I’m so screwed.”


	5. Rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! Set after the War ends, in which Feyre helps Rhys “relax”. Pretty much his goal from the prior chapter. ;p
> 
> Feyre (POV)

I felt the stress on my mate, despite how hard he tried to bury it with work. Our bond was so sensitive to each other now - feeling emotions through it was as easy as breathing. I frowned, my hands floating in the water around me as I sensed his headache. He had taken us on a trip to the Court of Nightmares this afternoon and was now busying himself with paperwork.

I was relaxing in a heated pool that lay out on the cliff side of the Moonstone Palace - nearby if he needed me, but trying to forget about the conflicts from earlier. We had both decided to stay in the palace above the Hewn City for convenience. Mainly in case we needed to stay for longer than intended. The infighting that had arisen since my mating with Rhys (and crowning as High Lady) had yet to abate. I had expected as much, and Rhysand made me feel better by giving me constant assurances that the backlash was tame compared to the slaughter that his _half-blood_ ascent to the throne centuries ago had been.

Still, I felt terrible that they were giving us such trouble - leading to Rhysand’s current mood.

So…I steeled my resolve and stood from the pool, wholly naked and dripping with water, and sought him out.

It was only the two of us in this palace after all. The atmosphere was serene and quiet and I didn’t bother drying myself off. Goose-bumps trailed all over my skin as I walked to where he was; reading a report on the balcony adjacent to me. I crossed the threshold, passing billowing curtains by the moonstone pillars and came up behind him - silent as shadow.

He was leaning heavily into a thick chair, his back to me, probably frowning at whatever was in the report. I felt a mental brush as an acknowledgment to my presence and when I finally reached him, I carded my fingers through his silky, ebony hair. He closed his eyes at my touch and leaned his head back - a gentle sigh escaping his lips. I grasped his chin so I could lean down and kiss him upside down - smiling despite myself as he chuckled deeply. He brought a hand up to keep me there, when he felt the wet strands of my hair and tried to turn his head to look at me.

I released him and strutted around to give him a full, sensual view and trying my best to keep his eye contact with a straight face. The stress of the night affected me in a different way it seemed. I was feeling playful and took great pleasure in seeing his fatigue and worry vanish with a single glimpse of me. His eyes widened at the sight of my drenched body; moonlight gleaming like diamonds off the droplets lingering on my skin.

“Feyre..” he murmured hungrily. His eyes were ravenously dragging slowly up and down every inch of me. Lingering on my full breasts and hips, then eventually back up to my eyes. The report lay forgotten on the ground.

I had become adept now at sending feelings, and even texture, through the bond. I stroked the link with a silky warmth and included the way the wind shivered along the droplets on my skin. He started to rise instantly off the chair. I went up to him quickly to stop his ascent though and pushed him back down, his hands gripping my waist to bring me along.

I settled against his chest, my legs draped over in his lap and kissed him - greedily this time. He groaned into it and the sound set my blood on fire. _I love you_. I whispered down the bond. He squeezed my thigh where his fingers were busy running up and down wet skin. We broke apart to breathe and I grinned victoriously at his dazed expression.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, darling?” He murmured before kissing into my neck. His hands, O Cauldron, those damnable hands were sliding over my hips and under my ribs, over every slice of me he could reach. I arched my back into him, as he grazed his nails over a deliciously delicate spot under my breast, making him smile into my neck. _Who is seducing whom here.._ I chided myself, and pressed my hand against the hardness at his groin - the friction earning an appreciative moan from my mate.

I turned to face him more directly, sighing as our lips met again. I distracted him with my tongue while my fingers worked the belt and buckle keeping me from my favorite play thing. The ache was unbearable now, soaking me through. He lifted his hips as I pushed his pants down - my hands following the smooth, V-shaped line of muscle leading to my goal. I slipped my fingers down and brushed pulsing heat, heavy as iron. Dizzying. He groaned, quivering like a newborn colt as I stroked him, sighing around my tongue.

“Now, let me show you how a Lady treats her King.”

His dark bedroom eyes were enough to send a pulse of heat directly into my core as I maneuvered his legs apart and kneeled down between them. With deliberate slowness, I locked eyes with his and touched my tongue to his burning skin, feeling him jump. He was already so hard. Opening my mouth, I licked him from root to tip, smiling as he groaned and his eyes became glazed. Tasting a salty sweetness at his crown, hot on my tongue. I kissed him, up and down, up and down. His legs trembling. I purred as I lost myself in the sensations - getting drunk off just the smell and feel of him; musk, and maleness and lust, filling my lungs. Finally, wetting my lips with the tip of my tongue, I plunged him deep into my mouth.

“Shit, Feyre!” he cursed and he wrapped his fists in my hair - gently guiding me, up and down his length. My cheeks hollowed, pumping my own fist at his root. I lost myself then. Instinct driving me forward. Hardly believing the smooth heat of him would always be mine alone.

Indeed, he was mine, then. Completely. Utterly. Helpless. He had always been mine before, but never on such a deeply primal level. I was almost overcome with it. The sense of absolute control, delighting in the differing moans and shudders my mouth elicited as I worked my tongue, groaning myself as a hunger took hold. There was only one thing I wanted in this moment, and I think he sensed that. Normally when I would do this to him he could only stand it for a couple of minutes before ripping me away and fucking me hard. _Not tonight though…_ I whispered to him down the bond as he read my thoughts.

His grip on my hair tightened, his pulse quickening. Chest shuddering like there wasn’t enough air in his lungs.

“Feyre,” he gasped, “I…”

I felt him buck involuntarily, pulsing in my mouth. Pulling me closer. More, more, more. Never enough. I could never have enough of him as I greedily drank up the sight of him shivering above me. Rhys was so gloriously undone and it gave me sweet satisfaction. He was normally always so composed. He threw his head back then and kept me in a steadying rhythm. I felt the glittering force in his mind erupt all around me as I sucked on him harder. Wanting him to come. Needing it.

His back arched suddenly as I felt his impending release, his legs trembled. And then he groaned my name, every muscle taut, filling my mouth with spurts of sweet, salty heat. I moaned, intoxicated with the power of it and swallowing greedily. Continuing to pump his length, milking every last drop until he gasped with the pleasure of it all and pushed my head back as he became too sensitive to take any more.

I climbed up off my knees, a wicked smile gleaming on my lips. Chuckling at the look in his eyes, the disbelief and hunger and afterglow - all in one. He was barley able to breathe or talk. All this, I'd done to him and I felt giddy with power.

“You all right?” I asked

He blinked hard. Shook his head with a silly grin. “Perhaps give me a minute.”

Laughing, I sat up and crawled into his lap once more, where he cradled me against his chest reverently. I lay my head against his heart and sighed as he resumed those wonderfully luxurious strokes down by body.

“Please take note that I’m not complaining, but what was that for?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“…Usually.”

I giggled and he pressed a kiss into my hair tenderly. My goal was accomplished though as I felt not a single ounce of worry in his mind. Only a soft, slow buzzing, which I gladly stoked by sending waves of love and lust down the bond. His arms encircled me tighter.

I had half a mind to close my eyes then, despite my own pulsing warmth between my legs, when I felt his breathing even out and energy coming back into his limbs. His mischievous smirk returned en force and I didn't have time to compose myself before I yelped as he winnowed us directly onto our bed. He had flipped us over during the winnow, so I was lying exposed underneath him. Suddenly bashful at the angles he could probably see, I tried to close my legs, but he grabbed them with a smooth movement.

“No, no darling.” He leaned down and spread my legs wide, meeting my eyes as he hovered over my wetness. “Now it’s my turn.”

—

I think it’s safe to say that neither of us bothered to keep our voices (or roaring down) that night.

I had a thought the following morning that perhaps some of the Court citizens beneath the mountain may have heard us. Rhys listened to my musings, still sleeping lazily against my breast, and muttered a simple, “Good.” I smiled at his immaturity and carded his hair until he relaxed back into a deep sleep.

My mate. My love. _Mine_.

 


	6. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is a father but one who nurtures, supports, and loves unconditionally. 
> 
> Feyre (third person)

She had memories of a time when her father was the highlight of her life.

He would read books to her when her mother and siblings were too busy to teach her. The booming and dramatic voices he created for the characters would often make her laugh. She would sit on his lap and he would show her maps and illustrations of the areas he had travelled. Stories and sea tales keeping her up at night and lingering in her dreams. Sometimes he would return from a long voyage smelling of salty air and exotic spices - the smell which she often caught minute traces of in her mate. It took her a long, long time before she finally realized why Rhysand's scent would sometimes leave her heart in her throat.

She loved when her father would describe all of the distant lands he had visited, and what wonders lay in those lands! Monsters, and captains, and beasts, and treasures beyond belief. He had brought her a souvenir once from across the continent - a solstice and birthday gift for her 7th year. A little something he said was worth a small fortune and he had gotten lucky and won in a bet. It was a fossilized egg of some rare creature, he had told her. It was no larger than her palm and was made of the most beautiful sapphire - it's center as deep as the ocean abyss. She felt guilty for missing it the most when he lost all of their possessions and had to sell the sapphire egg for money.

Despite his failings, despite his shortcomings, Feyre still loved him deeply.

He was lost in the war with Hybern. She missed him more than Elaine or Nesta ever would and her heart ached at the thought that she would never get to see him again. Would never hear his tales and laughter. 

As the decades pass, these longings slowly fade and she forgets more of her father everyday.

Subconsciously, they get replaced, one by one, by Rhysand. He's the one who now keeps her up at night telling her stories and tales of his younger adventures - and there's an endless amount of them, old as he is. Or he will read to her from his favorite books. His flare for the dramatic leaking into the voices of the characters and she laughs. If the texts were particularly ancient or handwritten, he would guide her hand across the pages so she could read along with him, and learn in the process. He cares for her immensely. And she, despite her independence and status as an all powerful High Lady, lets him coddle her to his heart's content. Their passion for one another was a force that blinded the sun.

Sometimes, she catches herself drifting off in his arms while he’s reading to her and imagines that they are her fathers arms. In these dreamy, pre-sleep states, she doesn’t know if her shields are up all the way. She decides they must not be, for whenever these thoughts come…Rhys always stops reading and instead begins to softly murmur into her hair; a soft, Illyrian lullaby. The words make no sense to her, but the melody is always deeply calming and lovely. His song never fails to make her fall into a blissful dreamland in his arms. 

With the passage of time, the nightmares too become less and less. Her dreams take on exciting and adventurous forms. Fueled by the stories from her childhood and with the new ones from Rhysand. They twist into strange shapes that leave her waking in the mornings alive with energy and light.

One such dream. Her father's tale of a great sea serpent trying to break apart a mighty pirate captain's ship. She was astride this ship now, slanted rain splashing her face as the raging sea mixed with the sounds of a terrifying roar from the beast. And beyond, a gigantic maelstrom lurked - a monster of a formation that Rhys had described existed within the islands of the northern territory. Their ship was trapped between the two horrors. No fear lurked within her, as the captain roared commands to his crew. His mighty wings shielding her from the rain as he kept her close.

She woke due to a humorous chuckle that radiated down the bond. She was nestled in the nook between Rhysand's shoulder and neck. He was watching her - mirth twinkling in those violet eyes. He had been in her mind, watching her dreams. She smiled, sleep still fogging her thoughts, and touched his now "beardless" face. The captain in her dream had sported a ravishing dark one.  
  
She discovered that he had started watching most of her dreams. He was fascinated by them, he told her. He loved how they were tinged with parcels of his own stories. Colored by them, but always different. He refused to let her forget about a particularly steamy dream where he had been a courtly priest of a sandblasted land, enchanted by her, a princess. He seduced her and they made love under a fiery, red sun, until the sand turned to water and his lower body faded and materialized into a powerful tail - dragging her into an underwater kingdom. Strange as dreams came about.   
  
He became particularly intrigued by the reoccurrence of a little blue egg, which would hatch into a dazzling, Sapphire dragon. The dragon had her blue-grey eyes. It would often visit other dreams, dancing in the sky or playing in the ocean.

She told him once, what the egg symbolized. It had been a clear, warm night and they had been stargazing. She lapsed into that comfortable world in his arms as he outlined different constellations. His words and stories lulled her and...she thought of another. This time, he didn't begin that lullaby she adored so much. 

Instead.

"Tell me about him."

She pondered on it for awhile. Trying to recall memories that had eluded her for so long now. 

"There's not much to tell." And indeed there wasn't. She had only a handful of years to recall. Not something that could compare to the vast history that Rhysand carried.

"Tell me anyway."

She smiled at the familiarity of those three simple words. And so she told him. Of how her father would enchant her and dote on her when her sister's were too absorbed in the parties and courtly life of their mother's social world. She had always felt distant from them. Maybe that was why he showed such blatant favoritism towards her. She regaled her mate with what she thought would sound like bland details, but all carried twinges of deep feeling. His scent. It was a bittersweet thing that memories could cast such powerful responses within a simple scent. She told Rhys how she would sometimes catch it on him, on his wings, and her heart would ache from the phantom longing.

She told him about the little egg. How it had been a special, rare gift. Oh, how she had treasured it.  
  
She chatted until she began to send thoughts instead of words, sleep coming to claim her. And then she showed him further in her dreams. Domestic little scenes that contrasted greatly from her normal adventurous ones. The sound of her father's booming voice in front of the fire as he entertained guests. The safety he gave her as he would tell her grand stories. Her body dwarfed in his lap. His face was always shrouded though. She couldn't picture him - time had blurred the details. Eventually the dreams became darker. Laced with the depression of her final memories of him. 

She awoke alone the following morning. It was hardly the first time. Rhys often had to attend meetings or winnow to the Illyrian camps for brief visits. She dressed and went to paint on the open veranda. She was adding shades of pink to the glowing Sidra at sunset when he returned. He surprised her from behind with an embrace and kissed her cheek. As she rose to be encircled by him fully, she noted the little piece of wrapped cloth in his hand. It was deep blue. His smile was soft and loving as he took her hand and placed the cloth in it. Her heart stuttered at the heavy weight within.   
  
She opened it with trembling hands, unable to believe what her treacherous thoughts were conjuring up. It was _impossible_. It had been sold in the human realm and likely shipped back to the rich folk of the continent. And yet...

The cloth slipped open to reveal the shimmering beauty of her little egg. Her breath hitched and she touched it, twisted it, still unbelieving. But there, on it's underside, was a familiar little speck - an imperfection of warmer blue tone. The center was deep and rich as the ocean's abyss. She didn't realize she was crying until Rhys pulled her into a deep hug. Kissing her hair. She knew it was silly to be reacting like this. It was only a materialistic object. But the moment her hands touched the familiar smooth contours, her father's face appeared in her mind - as clear as if he had been standing right in front of her. How had she forgotten him so? It wrecked her thoroughly, but Rhysand's weight became a pillar that held her up.

"How?" She managed to choke out.

His voice was raw. "Your father was right when he said it was a rare treasure. It's the crystalized egg of an Andean Drake. They went extinct a millennia ago, but used to thrive in Vallahan." He leaned her back and wiped away her tears. "They are so rare that it causes a fit whenever one is rediscovered. This arrived in a shipment with a batch of stolen treasures from Hybern's castle. It arrived in the Sidra's harbor last week. I remembered all the fuss that the jewelers and curiosity shops made about it."   
  
She gazed at him with awe and reverence, and then quickly guilt. He washed it away with a simple, "No need to fret, darling. I didn't have to spend a coin on it. The egg came wrapped in your father's original sealed box. Your family name had already claimed it. The dimwits in the shipping harbor simply "forgot" to alert anyone to the fact until I came searching this morning."  
  
He smiled at her with genuine joy at her happiness. Her overwhelming thoughts erupting into a radiant glow from her day court magic. She laughed, the light flaring around her, and tackled her mate in a frenzy. Feyre didn't let them leave their quarters for a good long while.

Rhys had the Sapphire egg fashioned into a beautiful display which they kept in the House of Wind. The centerpiece on the mantle. Now she had a memento of her father which helped her recall his face whenever she missed him. But those days were fading fast. Replaced, she had noticed, with her longing to stay forever in Rhysand's arms as he continued to pour tales into her ear every night. Replaced by the flutter her heart made whenever she saw him smile. She would still sometimes envision her father holding her though, in those deep hours of the night when her mate's voice would lull her to sleep. And he would still pause as her thoughts drifted, and switch to that haunting, Illyrian melody.

Soothing. Caressing. Nurturing.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a little yarn and completely got away from me. I simply wanted to explore a deeper, psychological aspect of Feyre - considering the way she grew up and the traumas experienced. I’m honestly really fascinated by the huge age gap between her and Rhysand, and I really want ACOWAR to be dual POV (Feyre/Rhys) so I can see how Sarah writes him viewing her. I wonder if he cares about how young she is compared to him and his thoughts on that. #PapaRhys


	7. She Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing too much drama. Here, have a magical, animalistic smut-fest.
> 
> Duel-POV (third person)  
> 

* * *

 

One of the bittersweet traits of his love with Feyre was that he knew, deep in his bones, that she would never be completely his. He loves her more deeply than anything he has ever known. And he knows she loves him with the same burning force. Their dance of passion was akin to the moon chasing the sun every night. But she was not leashed to him. She is the wind, the stars and all things wild and untamed. Completely free. And he would have her no other way.

_She dances at the waters edge, letting her paws dip slightly into the cool surface before using her water magic to trot across the lake. O, what a sight she was to behold! Fur shimmering as white as snow. Starlight dancing off her coat and coalescing like dew drops in the air around her._

He deemed that Feyre was like liquor - destructive, dangerous, addictive. Each time they kissed, he sank a little deeper. Each time he touched her, he gripped a little tighter. Each time he pushed inside her, he fell a little harder. Time was becoming blurred. His love for her consumed him every night in the dying of the light and he couldn’t fathom how he had ever survived up until this point without her by his side.

_She races against the wind, paws barely touching the grass before pushing off again, vivid colors dancing all around her as tantalizing scents and hidden trails lead her on a path made for no one but her, and she howls in exhilaration at being so wonderfully alive._

Maybe it was better to compare her to water instead. Her eyes, after all, were the color of rain. Shimmering in shade depending on the mood of the sky. Water carves it’s way, even through stone. And when trapped, water makes a new path. It can wash away earth, put out fire, and even destroy iron. She was certainly carving a path under his skin, burrowing down into bone and past all his carefully placed shields. Until his blood flowed with her heat and his heart beat to the song of her name. _Feyre, Feyre, Feyre_.

_She catches the scent of a gigantic beast and the hunt leads her into a dense area of forest that she has never visited. But fear has no place in her heart. The demons of the woods all know her name and form, whether they have seen her or not. And tonight is a new moon. Darkness and shadow erupt to cover her white fur with a black so deep that not even her glimmering starlight can escape it. The Ebony color a mark of her mate._

_Her mate…_

The fighting with Hybern had left him scarred in more ways than one. He was still sometimes overcome with a blinding terror that something would happen to her, despite the fact that the threat had passed. He knew that his soul would not survive without her. Despite his attempts to hide it, Feyre detected these lingering fears and had become protective of him after the war. She would often roll over him at night and whisper words against his neck to comfort his fear as he slid inside her. The war had been swift, but brutal, and the tension of battle stayed with them long after the cruel King had fallen - adding to their desperation. Although they never spoke about it, it was clear in the way they clung to each other and the way they both silently wished for the night to become endless. The underlying sense of threat lingering in the aftermath meant that they kissed, touched, fucked harder and faster and with a need so great he was sure it would destroy them.

_Her mate… Oh, how she wished he would join her! Her bond to him was so strong now that being separated for mere hours would cause immense distress. She had only been gone for three days - off to relieve some of her magic buildup in isolation. She relished the freedom of the hunt and her body thrummed with the continual release of power. But her mate…She paused in her hunt and cried a howl so deep and powerful that no beast in the land dared to utter a peep._

_How had she survived up until this point in her life without him?_

He was a madman possessed, as the teasing from Cassian and Azriel never failed to remind him. But they too, along with the citizens of Velaris, had already fallen deeply under her spell. She was a magnetic force and had fought tooth and nail to protect their lands during the war. Her presence had brought _life_ back into their circle, and his friends would forever love her just for that.

As it was, he sat waiting for her that night, twisting on the couch in an endless struggle to distract himself from the burning of her absence. He had promised her at least a couple days of freedom and had indeed given her that much, no matter how inclined he was to seek her out.

He sat up then, startling Mor and Azriel who had been chatting nearby. The wind shifted and blew a curtain of warmth into the foyer - beckoning him. Then her wild thoughts traced his mind. An invitation, laced with the haze of a predatory hunger. And he was off. He leapt off the balcony, wings flaring and taking him high into the star-kissed night before he winnowed to her.

_She changes direction, forgetting about the beast’s trail and galloping over rolling hills. She cries into the night, letting her voice carry far and wide; over land and sea. Her thoughts call to him - conveying images of fast-moving landmarks to help him find her location._

_She feels him then, his mind a familiar glittering force of endless dark power. The exhilaration travels down her legs as she pushes herself ever faster. Suddenly there’s a shift of cool air as he swoops down and flies low, grinning at her and lingering like a King in the sky. His wings beat hard to keep up with her. She relishes in the immediate calm that settles in her bones with his presence and scent in the air. She barks deeply in greeting, and a challenge? She conveys not words, but an image. The ocean cliff far on the horizon. His eyes meet hers only once, he grins and she growls. Tongue lolling as she puts on a burst of speed and races her mate across the land._

She is magnificent. Utterly breathtaking. There is no other way to describe her. And he’s not exaggerating when he describes to Cassian later how he had to flap his wings as if a storm was upon them in order to keep up with her. She might actually have been unintentionally creating one. Her body was an eruption of endless power and he chanced a glance behind them at one point and saw clouds materializing in the sky as she passed. He manages to stay in line with her, flying hard and fast, staying directly above her rippling body, as they careen towards the cliffside at breakneck speed. What a sight they must have been to anyone lucky enough to catch the spectacle! Feyre was practically flying over the land. Her long legs carrying her in great galloping strides. She was panting hard, her long snout open wide and he could see the sharpness of her fangs. His glorious huntress. Try as he might, he can't seem to travel fast enough to make it past her. The bond is wide open between them and he laughs at the thrill of her passion and wildness. 

_Her heart is pounding like war drums in her chest and still she pushes faster. Charging ahead and shooting past him. She hears him laughing with joy behind her and she answers with a breathless bark. Suddenly, the cliff edge comes into view and she sprints like a shooting star - leaving him far behind. The ground shifts to solid rock underneath her paws and in no time at all she has to break and slow down, lest she risk spilling right over the drop-off. She comes to a halt at the rocky edge and pants long and hard, trying to catch her breath. Her long tail is wagging as Rhys touches down near her. She whines and pounces on him, and he chuckles deeply, his thoughts warm, as she licks all along his face and...devilishly, along his wings. She feels energy race in her blood as she scents the change in him, giving him one last glimpse of her feral, fang-lipped grin, before shifting back into her Fae form - naked and still slightly breathless._

He can’t breathe, for more reasons than just the fact that they had covered a dozen miles in mere minutes. She is panting hard astride him, her chest rising and falling in great gasps. Her full breasts in the night air are lifting with each breath and he feels a tightness in his groin as he takes her all in. Just one look at her shivering and damp form was all it took for him to crave the smell and feel of her. She’s grinning and he could have sworn he saw the gleaming tips of fangs before he grabs her and kisses her passionately.

They were fangs. He feels them bite into his lips, blood flowing. The wounds close with healing magic as her tongue licks over them. She snarls as he drags her down hard into the ground, rolling them over until he’s on top of her. Grinding his hips and rubbing his aching length against her. She mewls in response, gasping and sighing into his mouth as he kisses her. Shadows blacken her hands as long claws grow and slash into his clothing; tearing them off in shredded ribbons. He grunts a deep baritone into the kiss as the cool air greets his hot skin. His body’s heat is nothing compared to hers though. She feels almost feverish as his hands roam over every inch of her.

_She cannot contain the feral thrum echoing in her blood as she kisses him. That very blood running like fire in her veins as her arousal for him consumes her. She’s done the hunting, and caught her prize. The growl that escapes her throat is not entirely Fae, the wolf within her roaring to be released again. She pants hard as she gathers her power and throws him to the side. He snarls as her nimble form slings over him once more, fighting for the dominance of who would be on top, and presses her entrance achingly close to his groin. She quiets him by simultaneously capturing his mouth and pumping his length with her heated palm, stroking from root to tip. He cries into her mouth, pleading, but they are needless for she angles him up and sheathes herself on him completely in one fluid motion. He releases a throaty hiss, bucking up, and he can’t keep up with her kisses as she fucks him hard._

_She throws her head back and lets the sensations overwhelm her. Magic coats the air in a shimmering field around her and she unleashes it all higher into the sky. Dense, billowing clouds condense directly above them and clash into one another. Her mate’s length is filling her deeply and keeps hitting that delicious spot inside her. She feels electric; body humming and putting a charge in the air. As if in answer, lightning forks across the sky, illuminating their forms for a flash of a second. Thunder boomed immediately after, as if two huge boulders had been flung and collided mid-air. The strike hits with enough force to shake the ground. She feels his claws sink into her thighs, keeping her balanced as she rides him. She glances down and he’s watching her. Breathing hard and pupils dilated. She grins at him and leans down to capture his mouth._

He moans throatily, utterly consumed. The display of awful power she’s releasing and it’s ability to destroy everything around them turns him on so hard. He’s soon throwing out his own glamour and a black wind races around, flecked with starlight and the chaos of nightmares and dreams. It combined with her tempestuous storm high above them, until a black hurricane is pounding the surrounding landscape. A torrential downpour begins pelting slanted rain into their faces, but they could care less. He hears more than sees the crashing of the ocean waves, but she must be pulling the tide up high if the splattering of briny froth emerging from the cliff top is anything to run by. Lighting forks again and strikes a nearby mountain. The resulting avalanche of snow and rock echoes around the valley like the roar of some ancient beast.

There was something pulling at them, something neither of them could begin to understand, and all they knew was how to hold onto each other as they stumbled through a sensation that felt strangely like falling. Their bond was wide open and her thoughts and sensations spilled into him. He drank it up like a beggar tasting fine wine for the first time. He was sure she could see his desperation to get closer to her still, in the way his jaw set as he thrust up to meet her and the way his mouth shaped around silent words as he trembled against her.

He couldn’t contain it and flipped them around, ignoring her growl by burying into her with a deeper angle that left her moaning instead. He managed a couple of thrusts before she surprised him by twisting her body so her stomach and face were pressed into the ground, his cock still inside her and the sensation was almost his undoing. She arched her spine and thrust her backside into the air. His movements sped up, becoming almost frantic as he rocked against her in a choking exigency.

 _Her cries of pleasure were drowned out by the roaring wind. She wanted more, more, more. Her mate's grip tightened on her hips as he slammed into her and she had to spread her arms into the dirt to keep her from being shoved away from the force of him. A glittering warmth built from the crown of her head and traveled down, down until it burst as he angled up and hit her in that secret spot once more. She let loose a throaty cry as her orgasm ravaged her in waves. Lightning split the sky once more in a breathtaking display and struck nearby this time, smashing into the cliffside only a hundred yards away. The energy propelled through the ground in an earthquake of power and blasted the cliff with large chunks of rock and dust. Rhys actually_ laughed _, missing a thrust in the process. The danger and recklessness getting to the both of them._

The madness was intoxicating and he never wanted it to end. Lightning forked yet again, striking multiple areas and filling the air with tangible heaviness. The earth shook from the thunderous cacophony. Despite his desire to remain like this with her for eternity, he felt that familiar tension coiling in his stomach and his thoughts spun out of control. His wings flared out and he almost came instantly when she bucked up involuntarily - still sensitive after her release. She twisted around him again, mid-thrust, and he snarled - trying with all his might to hold on. But his mate was not to be denied as she met his mouth, forcing him up and she sat in his lap, his aching cock still inside her, and began to rock. The angle was far deeper and he groaned, completely at her mercy. His mouth managed to find hers as their bodies intertwined. He was moaning and cursing under his breath as her fingers somehow found themselves sliding around sensitive membrane.

Her shields suddenly sprung up and he caught a single, vicious grin on her face, making him falter in his movements. She continued to grind against him, but in one swift movement, she leaned up to catch the claw of his right wing and pulled it around her. He had enough time for a spike of panic before she mouthed the edge of the membrane and bit down, fangs sinking in. His roar shook the cliffside, causing a landslide of rocks that went crashing into the raging waters below. It was a wonder the whole shelf had not yet collapsed into the sea from their passion. He fell hard against her, his orgasm cresting at the rush of pain and pleasure. His whole body was shaking as he panted hard against her neck and his hips continued to buck into her as she guided him through the throes of his release.

_She smiled at his reactions, apologizing for the bite by caressing his wings in languid, sensual strokes. Up and down. Across long swathes of membrane and into deep, sensitive crevices. His labored breathes mixed with hers as she held him up, limbs curling around him and entwining. She kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his closed eyes, the bite mark, and he sighed dreamily into her. The storm was slowly abating - her lust satiated. The rain calmed into a soft deluge that washed away their sweat-soaked skin and she hummed in contentment. Now that the edge had been taken off her arousal, the scents of nature fill her nose and she feels thrilled to no end - energy returning to her limbs like needles. When her mate has caught his breath, she meets his mouth one last time, kissing him repeatedly and with enough artistry to earn an appreciative groan from him. She releases him, but before he can grab her, she rolls off of him and shifts._

Ethereal and addictive. And she would never be completely his. In love and passion and friendship, yes. His Mate and High Lady - Queen of night. But as he gazed at the she wolf, rolling around on her back in the mud and snapping at the rain, he smiled for he knew that she was as wild and free as the raging sea below. Untamable and unyielding in it’s ferocity and power. The part of him that felt the panic and stress of her absence was long gone, replaced only by love and pride.

Her form was huge, colossal even, and he moved to sidle up next to her - relishing in the warmth of her fur. She turned her head to gaze at him upside down. He grinned despite himself at her silly expression, and he couldn’t quite help himself as his fingers found themselves threaded in her damp fur, digging in and feeling the soft dryness of her undercoat. He caressed and scratched her exposed belly - committing her reactions to memory. He would never let her live down the way she growled low and splayed her legs obscenely. If she were in Fae form, he would have taken her again right there - spread eagled in the air and without a care in the world.

As it was, she let him stroke her for a good long while, her white fur glowing softly in the mist. The rain had turned into a soft drizzle and faded completely when she eventually rolled over to stand up. She shook and sprayed him with a massive amount of water, making him laugh. He noticed then that the water and surrounding air was cold, borderline freezing, and with his mate no longer shielding him from it, he snapped his fingers and was clothed once more. He stood up to meet her. She was a full head taller than him, towering and probably intimidating as all hell to anyone else but him. She whined and licked his face and he hugged her deeply, scratching behind her ears and conveying his thoughts and love down the bond.

But then he released her and took flight, shaking the water off his wings and spraying her in the process. Payback. He laughed again as she yelped and bounded away. Long legs carrying her far. He followed for a bit, swooping down and playing with her around the valley, but then he felt her catch some strange scent trail on the ground and she howled with exhilaration. Her song reverberated through his very soul and the beauty of it swept him away.

He smiled and nodded at her before diving one last time to pull her tail - dodging in time to avoid an air snap. He rode a pocket of warmer air up into the sky, sending a mental farewell and beating a hard rhythm into the air, carrying him up high into the clearing stars. He glimpsed her snow-white form once more before she disappeared into the forest, off to hunt some poor monstrosity that stalked the woods. She was unbounded and he would wait for her at home, ready to take her tired and spent form in his arms and carry her into sleep.

His eyes were bright as he winnowed back to the House of Wind. Cassian was there, relaxing on the couch with a drink in hand. His brother only had to glance up at him once before snorting on his drink and choking at him.

“Dude, you fly through a storm or what?” he laughs. “Look at your fucking hair!”

Rhys looks in the mirror by the bar as he fetches his own drink and had to swallow a chuckle. He’s filthy with mud and scratches all over him. His hair indeed looks like a hurricane blew it sideways. He pauses mid-drink when he realizes that that’s exactly what happened and he collapses in the open backed chair by Cassian. Exhaustion creeps up on him as he deals with his friend’s incessant questions. He keeps some things to himself, the feel of Feyre shivering and undulating against him, but holds nothing back as he regales Cass with the awe and power of her magic. The land had probably been permanently scarred where they made love and Cassian vowed to journey there with Azriel the following morning to take a look.

The night rolled ever onwards though and he found himself in bed at last - clean and craving sleep. He wasn't sure how long he had been dozing before a warm, silken body woke him by slipping beneath the covers and into his arms. Feyre pushed her back against him so he could wrap completely around her. He breathed into her hair and mumbled words of endearment in Illyrian. She kissed his arm that loosely slung over her shoulder and granted him images of her hunt, fascinating as they were - seeing through the eyes of a wolf. She let him taste the air through her senses and behold the vibrant colors all around her. He slipped back into sleep soon after, soothed by her scent and presence.

Images of the forest racing by consumed his dreams.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to picture her form like I do, think Ghost from Game of Thrones (but bigger - proper dire wolf size). ;p Also, Amaterasu from Okami - just without the red markings and sun disk (although she could definitely make fire surround her like that). Aaaand I just had the epiphany that Ammy "paints" to attack with elemental magic. Feyre, is that you? :o
> 
> Lastly, the quote about water (how it carves through stone and all that) and “eyes like rain" was actually from Memoirs of a Geisha. Such a beautiful book and one of the rare instances where I loved the film adaption just as much.


	8. Aesthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He loves the way she looks at him. Like his power isn’t something to run from.

* * *

 

Feyre delights in finding little moments to sketch Rhys. On the rare instances where she wakes up before him and finds him sleeping deeply by her side - face the perfect image of peace. She'll often pretend to be doing something else, sneaking in a drawing while he’s on the roof and brooding, lounging outside to sunbathe his wings, or training with Cass and Az.

He catches her sometimes. While reading in a chair across from her, he will glance up and she has to quickly look down and hide the pencil between the pages of the book she was reading. She studiously ignores him afterwards, the sly smile on his lips and the fact that he catches her every time she dares try to look up again means that this particular sketch will go unfinished.

Most of the time she succeeds in finishing a sketch while he’s unaware, but if the pose she’s trying to capture is particularly beautiful or if she gets distracted by something, he will sometimes slip through her shields and catch on. Feyre smiles whenever he does, for he always puffs up dramatically during training or pouts more moodily on the rooftops to amp up the pose. His pout always wavers into a grin whenever Feyre laughs at his antics.

She’s up painting late one night. He had been dozing quietly on their bed, so she snuck in the chance to roam over his form unabashed. His breathing shifts and he looks up - catching her staring at him deeply. This time, she can’t help the way her gaze lingers ever so softly, scanning his bare skin in the candlelight, and she gets a rush of pleasure whenever she meets his dark, bedroom eyes.

“May I oblige you in some way, love?” He rolls his neck and stretches his wings alluringly.

She smiles. “I’m just trying to figure something out is all.” She mixes paints together on her palette, brow furrowing. He cocks his head at her. “I can’t decide if your flush is the fire-gold color of dawn or maybe a darker amber.” There were too many cool, jewel undertones in his coloring, she mused. The struggle to capture their essence utterly entranced her.

She felt the bond glitter with adoration and looked back up. His eyes had softened and gazed at her reverently for some reason. His mouth was quirked up and she desperately wanted to capture the single dimple on his right cheek some day - no matter how many attempts it took to get it just right.

He rolled over into the pillows on their bed, messing the sheets and giving her a luxurious view of his naked body. “How else would you describe me.” He asked sweetly, referring to his skin.

She regarded him with amusement, but indulged him. “Well…painting-wise, it depends on the lighting and the time of day.” She kept mixing as she spoke, trying to get the right palette going. “Mid-morning, you’re usually a cool, olive tone. In the afternoon, golden-hour lighting it reaches a lovely, rich, cinnamon-tint. After you’ve been flying or exercising you have the most wonderful bronze flush - your cheeks especially.” She rambled, enjoying the way the paint mixed as if it were matching her descriptions. “Like a desert ocean…” She finally found a satisfying shade and began laying color down on the canvas, blocking in his form. “...or the cooler tones of certain Hazel Fay flowers. It makes a lovely contrast to your trailing shadows. And your _eyes_ …” She sighed dreamily and glanced back up to make sure she was catching the angle of his torso correctly, but his expression stopped her short.

There was something burning in his gaze - eyes like molten amethysts. He sat up, thank goodness for her sketch beforehand or the pose would be lost, and opened his mouth. No words came out though and his throat bobbed. “Come here.” He eventually got out, the words whisper soft.

She wondered if maybe she had spoken something offensive as she set down her palette and left the brush in a container of water. Her silk night slip raised off her thighs as he pulled her into his lap on the bed.

“What is it?”

He nuzzled sweetly into her neck, murmuring. “Nothing." His arms wrapped her securely to him and he inhaled deeply. "I just wanted to hold you.”

She began to glow softly, unintentionally, and his grip tightened around her. She enjoyed running her fingers through his onyx hair, nails dragging in for a more sensory effect. She loved how unguarded he became around her. And only her. She was the first thing he touched in the mornings, and the last thing he tasted at night. He purred into her caresses and the vibrations they left against her skin had her content to stay in his arms like this for the rest of eternity.

She kissed his brow before angling his face up so she could trace the line of that dimple she adored so much, his eyes half-lidded and devout. He smiled, the line she was touching deepening, and closed his eyes. Feyre cherished these intimate moments with him the most - beyond their bond and the sex and the friendship. In these deep hours of the night, where all his barriers would drop and he would grace her with his hopes, fantasies, doubts, and fears.

This night, she forgot about the half-started painting and laid with her mate, wrapped up in his arms, skin against skin, hands intertwined. They fell asleep to the sound of each other’s beating hearts.

She woke the following morning and had to ease out of his hold ever so carefully, so as not to wake him. Rare as it was for her to be up first. She grabbed her sketchbook and practiced drawing the contours of his sleeping, peaceful face for hours on end.

 

* * *

 


	9. Evenstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will linger on, in darkness and in despair. As nightfall in winter that comes without a star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is post ACOWAR and contains spoilers! Do. Not. Read. If you have not finished the book! You have been warned. 
> 
> Can I gush for a minute though at how fucking wonderful ACOWAR was!?! Rhysand is officially my book husband.

* * *

 

Long after the war, when peace had at last settled in the land, for Humans and Fae, there lingered a hurt that would not quite heal.

...

I woke yet again from another nightmare, one where the Cauldron’s swirling black waters had latched on to my mate and dragged him into their murky depths. And I could not find him this time. Could not save him.

Decades had passed since that fateful battle. Rhys and I were now more wrapped up in each other with a celestial love that rivaled all the stars in the sky for their brilliance. Our bond grew stronger day by day, heightened by the fond memories being created and tying us together.

Yet the nightmares did not end.

They always had the same theme now - colored differently in each twisted dream.

This night, as my breathing calmed, I turned in our bed and gazed deeply into my mate’s sleeping face. He had me wrapped close, but I carefully eased out of his hold. When he stirred slightly from my loss of warmth, I murmured sweet nothings to him to lull him back to sleep. His breathing deepened.

Whisper quiet, I slunk out of bed and put my slippers and silk robe on. Then I winnowed. My focus was sharp and stubborn as I materialized in a secret room in the Library, accessible only to me or Rhys. Hidden here was my mating gift from Kier. Today had been yet another wonderful day, now stained with the pain from my nightmare. I was _done_. I wanted to put an end to them once and for all and had been debating this for a good long while - at least a couple of months now. Yet, I always seemed to chicken out in the end. But not anymore…not as my mate’s sorrowful eyes pierced me again as I beheld him sinking into black water. Despite the faint sense of dread, I squared my shoulders and pulled the veil off the Ouroboros mirror.

The room was dark, save for a single ball of faelight glowing by the door. The mirror was as normal as can be, if not for the disturbing imagery of the snake eating itself around it’s frame. The room was freezing and I sniffled from the cold, wrapping my robe around me tightly. I had no clothes on underneath it and the chill was getting to me, raking on my nerves.

I steeled my spine and asked into the gloom, “Hello? Can you hear me?”

I had done an excruciating amount of research on the mirror in the calm years after war’s end. Scholars and historians alike attributed various powers to it - beyond the madness that those unworthy of it’s gaze would be tormented with. One of those powers that I now latched onto was the ability to scry into the future. I could not bring myself to ask Elain, even though she had a similar power. Not this kind of…intimate..question. The cautionary tales about the mirror lingering with this ability were immense. Knowledge that was not meant to be known would often drive even the most resolved mind mad. Yet all I wanted from it in this aspect was one small piece of information. That was it. Then I would banish the power from my reach.

“I-I would like to ask you something?” I tried again. There was no response from the mirror and none of the scholars had any notes on how to access the mirror’s power. For as far as it’s existence was concerned, no one had been able to gaze into it’s depths for a millennia and survive unscathed. Not until me.

I tried a different tactic, feeling foolish. I walked right up to the mirror and ignored the image of my inner beast’s prowling face. I gripped the frame and closed my eyes, concentrating on my will, on my question. Asking it desperately over and over and over.

_Hello, Lady of Night._

I jumped. The mirror was rippling as if water had dropped onto it’s surface. It was a sing-song female voice, and I could detect a soft, secondary male voice in it as well. Goosebumps blossomed on my skin. I didn’t dare speak aloud for fear I was imagining things. Instead, I dared to ask my question again - one more time. Petrified of being ignored again….or…worse. Of being answered.

The Ouroboros rippled once more, quicksilver shimmering and warping. Then.. the male voice was dominant now - deep and sorrowful and ancient.

_Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Rhysand will die._

There was no air. Nothing to draw from. Nothing…as it’s words speared through my very soul.

_And there will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing. He will come to death an image of the splendor and might of the High Lords of Fae. A King in glory, undimmed before the breaking of the world. And you…you will linger on, in darkness and in despair. As nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Here you will dwell. Bound to your grief, under the fading trees. Until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent._

A stray wind caressed me gently. Through me. I was a nothingness. An ether. Faintly, across a void, I felt that wind cool the hot tears that slid unhindered down my face - a face masked in stone and utter ruin.

I felt him immediately through the bond, alarmed at my…suffocation. My excruciating agony. I didn’t even have to wait a heartbeat before Rhys was there. Arms circling me gently, hands cupping my face, smoothing the tears away. The mirror had faded - gone back to that stillness and normality of an everyday object. No trace of the voice or power remained. Only the…echo. The _words_. Piercing me again, and again, and again.

“Feyre..” Rhys’s words were broken out, shuddering. He was terrified. For me…I realized a moment later as his violet eyes captured mine. Refusing to let me go. My walls were adamant and he tried desperately to claw his way in. But I refused. I couldn’t…

My face, expressionless and like a ghost, finally wavered when he leaned his forehead against mine, his nose nuzzling into my cheek. My face crumpled, a sorrowful gasp, as he enwrapped me into his arms. Wings cradling me to him in a tight cocoon.

 _Feyre…_ he murmured, pleaded to me though the bond. _Let me in.._ Still I refused. Lost.

I was l o s t.

I gripped his jacket hard enough that my knuckles were white. His scent breathed into me, the only thing keeping me tethered to this earth.

 _Rhysand will die.._ I couldn’t stop the echo of those words as I gazed into his face. My mate’s beautiful, devastated face. He murmured pleas at me, aloud and through the bond. Trying so had to figure out what was wrong. So he could sweep in and take it from me. Take the pain into himself. My selfless mate. He would never stop giving everything of himself. I managed to raise my hand and trace his face, over the curve of his brow, ran them through his silken, sable hair.

My pounding heart calmed, beat by beat, as I breathed him in, the bond glowing strong between us. I swallowed hard.

The pain…the…consequence, of what losing him would mean…what it would do to me. The husk it would leave behind. His eyes were galaxies of starlight, the endless depth and love that poured out of them drowned me. I matched it all back. My love, my life. For him - all of it for him.

It would be _worth_ it.

…

  
The mirror rippled again. Power leaking from it. Unseen and unfelt to anyone but me - it’s master. I flinched violently at it. Rhys brought me closer in response, a deep, baritone snarl erupting from him. Aimed at the nameless threat that hurt me so deeply. Rhysand’s power was a tether - binding me to the feeling of the bond and instilling my bones with calm.

I dared to glance over his shoulder at the mirror again. This time, no words came. Then… images — faint at first, but growing with clarity the longer I looked. They retained a haze…a grey fog that bent and warped, but materializing out of the gloom was the image of..

My breath hitched, and Rhys tensed, finally noticing what was drawing my attention. What was causing my distress.

The mirror-image panned, slowly, as if it was through the view-point of my own eyes. The vision of the House of Wind shifted to the foyer, where I beheld a dark figure, standing proud as he gazed over the balcony at the city below. I knew who it was. Suddenly, a soft shriek of laughter from inside the house. The peal-bell tone and warmth filled me to the brim. The dark figure turned and smiled. No, _beamed_. At the small, winged child that now ran into view in the foreground. Ran right up to him, as Rhys leaned down and lifted him up high, laughing and bringing him in close. Encircling him. I saw the boy’s face, where it rested lovingly against…against his _father’s_ neck.

“Don’t look at it Feyre,” Rhysand’s frantic voice called my soul back to my body." He shifted me, and I felt his power pool as he prepared to winnow us away. “Don’t let it—“

He paused immediately as my hand gripped his, hard. He faltered as he beheld my face, but I couldn’t look away from mirror. From the vision.

“It’s okay.” My words were whisper soft. Heart in my throat. Eyes shimmering as fresh tears threatened to spill. A few did when my son’s eyes opened. The piercing blue locked on to me. His lacerating stare made me understand. I smiled, and the boy…his lips twitched up, eyes dancing. The grin identical to the one my mate always sauntered around with.

The image faded back into fog and I whimpered as I leaned out of Rhys’s hold. Leaning towards the mirror with utter longing adorning my face. A sensation that was foreign at first, but kept building within me. Like a promise. No, it was bigger than that. Deeper.

Rhysand’s pressure on my shields began anew, but still, I did not grant him the knowledge. Nor would I. As I finally broke my gaze from the mirror, it’s pane once again normal, and found my mate’s burning gaze on me.

I had already granted him the vision of who the Bone Carver appeared to me as. That would be enough for him - at least for now. My smile was soft and serene as I gazed reverently into Rhys’s perplexed face. “I’m sorry…” I murmured, reigning in my emotions and realizing with a sudden clarity how badly I was scaring him. “It’s okay. I’m…okay.” He stroked my cheek, violet eyes curious and loving.

He glanced quickly to the mirror, eyes narrowing at it, before winnowing us away - back to our bedroom. I glanced out the open window and basked in the warm air that chased away my chilled skin. The endless cascade of stars in the sky was brilliant tonight. Or maybe it was my bittersweet musings coloring them differently. Rhys pulled me to the bed and I followed him to the center, sitting in his lap as he cradled me in a tight embrace.

“What did you see?” he murmured softly.

That small, beautiful face shined in my mind again, but I did not let Rhys see it. I gazed at him, our eyes linked in a sweet dance. “A part of my…of our future.”

Those violet eyes shimmered, starlight dancing in them as he read the longing still on my face. He cocked his head in silent request and my lips quirked up at the gesture. I shook my head and pushed him back down into the bed. I nuzzled tightly into his hold and his wing came around to shelter me with more warmth. “I don’t want to spoil it for you.” I whispered gently.

He kissed me. Then again, before sighing heavily as he stroked my arm. “But that…fear…what was that all about?” he murmured. The light in his eyes shuddered. “I haven’t felt that kind of raw panic from you since the war.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my racing heart. I knew he felt that. “It was my own fault. I…woke up again, from another nightmare.” His eyes softened. “I’m tired of them, Rhys. I wanted to try to end them…the only way I knew how. By acknowledging the source of the fear.”

His eyes were questioning and full of love. He brought his hand up to smooth my hair back, but didn’t push me for answers. We were deep enough in our bond to know that the other was always there. He would listen when I was ready to tell him. But I would not tell him now. Maybe not until after our son was brought into the world. The thought made me smile again and I kissed my mate sweetly and lay against his chest, banishing the thoughts of the mirror’s voice. I felt his answering kiss against my hair and he lay his head down over mine.

The nightmares did not continue after that night. No, instead my dreams were filled with softer things. Sweet things. And although the mirror’s words would sometimes make me clutch my chest from pain, I knew that it had shown me an even greater truth. It’s original words were not prophecy, as nothing in the future could ever be. Rhys and I had sworn our bargain to each other at war’s end - the matching tattoos as evidence - and I knew that I would not survive long into the eon’s if he were to eventually die again. I _could_ not. Yet, if that were indeed to be my cursed fate...it would have been worth it. And I would not be completely alone either.

...

Eventually a night came where Rhys lay behind me and stroked his hand protectively over my growing stomach. My skin basking in an eternal, silvery shimmer from the happiness and radiant joy of _life_ within me.

...

I would not be alone.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Lord of the Rings fans have probably already figured out that this is a retelling of "Arwen's Fate/Vision". I used a direct quote from Elrond for the mirror's dialogue. I highly recommend listening to their corresponding soundtrack scores. Too much emotion!! The songs pretty much killed me as I imagined them playing during that freaking scene in ACOWAR (looking at you pg.666). This was pretty cathartic to write though - as was watching this clip from YouTube (warning - FEELS TRIP if you imagine them as Rhys/Feyre):
> 
> https://youtu.be/_i3Ax4YJySg


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